Dead In The Water

EPILOGUE

Stone sat in his Turtle Bay garden on a lovely early spring morning, breakfasting on eggs and bacon and orange juice. When he had finished, his Greek housekeeper, Helene, took away the plates and poured hima mug of the strong coffee he loved. He looked through the Times idly, Checking for any mention of Allison. He had heard nothing from her, and when he had called the Greenwich house, the number had been disconnected. He had thought of calling her Connecticut lawyer, but had decided just to wait for Allison's call.

Alma, his secretary, came out to the garden with the morning mail. "There's one from the broker in Fort Lauderdale," she said.

Stone opened that first and found a check for one million eight hundred thousand dollars and change. He smiled broadly.

"I take it we're not broke for a while?" Alma asked,

"We certainly are not," he said, endorsing the check and handing it to her.

Her eyes grew wide. "I had no idea it was worth so much."

"The broker reckoned it had cost close to three million to build and equip. Still, after his commission, that's a good price."

"What shall I do with it?" Alma asked.

"Write a check for, let's see"-he began scribbling numbers on his newspaper-"three hundred seventy-five thousand to that law firm in Palm Beach, for the account of Libby Manning's mother. I want that off my conscience."

"Right," sad Alma.

"Then send a check for five hundred and forty thousand to the Internal Revenue Service." He groaned. "God, how proud I am to be an American and pay my taxes!"

"Right. That leaves eight' hundred and eighty-five thousand."

"Send my broker a check for two hundred thousand, and tell him to call me about where to invest it."

"We're rich!" Alma squealed. "What about the rest?"

"I was thinking about buying an airplane," Stone said.

Alma's face fell. "Oh. We're not rich anymore. Well, it was fun while it lasted." She got up and trudged comically back into the house.

Stone had a thought: he could afford a car now. He got up, went into the house, and walked through the kitchen into a storeroom, then through another door. This had been a garage at one time, and there was still a folding door to the street, though he hadn't opened it for a long time. He waded through the stacked boxes and old lawn furniture to the door, which was made of heavy oak. He turned the lock, thinking, I'll have to install an automatic garage door opener if I'm going to use this space. He tugged at the door, which moved six inches and stopped. He tugged again, and got it open three feet. Then, with all his strength, he moved the door up all the way, until it was standing wide open. He found himself face-to-face with a tall man.

"Morning, Stone," the man said. "I was going to ring the front bell, but…"

"Morning," Stone said. "What brings you around to see me?"

"Oh, just a social call," Jim Forrester said. "Got a few minutes?"

"Sure." Stone dragged two lawn chairs over, made a pass at dusting them, and sat down. "Take a pew."

The two men sat, ten feet from the street. Forrester seemed a little annoyed at not being asked into the house. "How about some coffee?" he said.

"Sorry, coffee's off the menu," Stone replied. "What do you want?"

"Oh, I was just passing by."

"Were you? Say, whatever happened to your New Yorker piece? I haven't seen it."

"Oh, they take a long time to edit anything, you know. My editor…"

"That would be Charles McGrath?"

"Right."

"Chip McGrath left The New Yorker a couple of years ago to become editor of the New York Times Book Review."

"Ah, right; I'm working with another editor now. Say, what do you hear from Allison?"

"You must think I'm a medium," Stone said, expressionless.

"I inquired bout the disposition of the body at Government House. They didn't seem to know what I was talking about. I began to think that Allison might not be dead after all."

"The police told me that their policy was to cremate the body and scatter the ashes at sea," Stone said. That was certainly what they had told him. "By the way, have you been to any alumni reunions lately?"

Forrester loked at him, puzzled. "No, not for years. Why do you ask?"

"I did a little checking upstate. There was no James Forrester at Syracuse, not since the class of '38, and I think that was a little before your time."

"Must be some mistake," Forrester said.

"No, but there was a Paul Manning, at Cornell, of course."

"Yes, that's where Paul went. Why were you checking on me at Syracuse?"

"When I've been had, I like to know why and by whom."

"Had?"

"Manning did play basketball for his fraternity, as you said he did. In fact, I've got a copy of the yearbook for his senior year, and there's a very good photograph of him in it. He looks very different-thinner and no beard. Would you like to see it?"

Forrester looked at his nails. "It doesn't interest me," he said.

"I guess not," Stone agreed. "Tell me, where are you living these days?"

"I've been living here in the city, but I think I'm going to do some traveling now."

"I'm not surprised," Stone replied.

Alma walked into the garage from the house. "Oh, there you are. Bill Eggers is on the phone; he wants to know if you want to have lunch."

"Tell Bill I can't make it today, but I'll call him later," Stone said. "Oh, and call Dino and tell him to pick me up in five minutes and to bring his friends. I've got some stuff I want to give to the Salvation Army."

"Okay," Alma said, then left.

"Stone," Manning said, "I really came to see you to find out if you would represent me as my attorney."

"No, I won't."

"Why not?"

"Because you're looking for attorney-client confidentiality, aren't you?"

"In part."

"Well, you won't get it from me, pal."

"Stone, I don't understand…"

"Sure you do, Paul. By the way, I got a check for your yacht this morning. It brought a million eight after the broker's fee."

His face flushed. "I should have thought it was worth a good deal more."

"Oh, I know you paid more, but what with the market and all…"

Paul Manning looked at his nails again. "When did you figure it out?"

"Oh, I was very slow. It didn't all come together for me until I was sailing the boat from St.Marks to Fort Lauderdale. No, a little earlier, I guess, when I saw the repair you'd made to the headsail reefing swivel."

"What else do you think you've figured out?"

"The dinghy was never stolen in Las Palmas."

"Wasn't it?"

"You just made some noise about it, replaced it, then sailed the old one back to the Canaries after Expansive was over the horizon."

"If you say so."

"What did you do about clothes and papers? You couldn't use your own passport."

Manning looked at Stone for a long moment, then apparently decided it didn't matter anymore. "All right, I left a car on the south coast of Gran Canaria with some clothes."

"How long did it take you to lose the weight?"

"I started dieting the minute we left the States," Manning said. "Losing weight has never been easy for me, but I had some time; I lost a pound or two a week. By the time we got to Las Palmas, I was as slim as I am now."

"Careful you don't gain it back, Paul; somebody might recognize you."

"Not where I'm going."

"And where would that be?"

"You figure it out."

"It's going to be tough without the money, isn't it?"

"Damn Allison!" Manning said suddenly, and with some venom.

"Wasn't the money in the Cayman Islands account? Didn't you have access to it?"

"The money was moved to a different account the day before Allison's trial."

"I thought it might have been."

"I'd like to get my hands on her."

"I'll bet you would, but it's going to be a little difficult, isn't it?"

"She's not dead, is she?"

"Suppose she's not? I doubt if you could find her. After all, you must have given her lessons in how to obtain a real U.S. passport, how to establish new identities, and all that. All the research you did for your books, and for your own use."

"All that insurance money-tax free-the money from the sale of the house and the cars; it's all gone," Manning said bitterly.

"And even if you could find it, you've no way to get at it, have you?"

"Sir Leslie Hewett showed me the will he drew for her, leaving everything to the Girl Scouts of America!"

Stone burst out laughing. "Paul, you've made my day, you really have."

"And she gave the goddamned boat to you," Manning said through clenched teeth.

"That's right, pal, but your heart will be warmed to know that Libby's mother got four hundred thousand of the proceeds."

"Shit!"

"So you killed Libby for nothing, didn't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Come on, Paul; you had the skills to screw up that airplane engine. You'd flown with Chester; you knew he never did a run up that he'd never notice his fuel problem until he was already in the air. You killed Chester, too, and that other poor woman who was aboard."

"You can't prove that," Manning said.

"You know, right up until the moment that plane crashed, this was all just a lark, a bit of insurance fraud. But when that plane went down, you became something else entirely. You became a murderer-not just three times, but four. You stood there in that jail in St.Marks and let Allison walk out to the gallows. I'll bet she thought until she was standing over that trap door with the rope around her neck that you would step forward and save her. You could have at any time; all you had to do was to tell Sir Winston that you were Paul Manning. He couldn't prosecute her for a murder that hadn't taken place. But you didn't do that, did you? You thought all that money was safe in the Caymans account, and it would all be yours. But Allison outsmarted you."

"I can't figure out why she did it," Manning said, looking dejected.

"Because she knew you. At first she thought you'd save her, but finally she knew you'd never turn yourself in, even to save her. If you had turned yourself in, you'd have had all that money to buy your way out of the business in St.Marks, but you decided to go for broke, to keep it all for yourself, and now you're just that-broke."

"I want the money you got for my boat," Manning said. "And I want all of it."

Stone laughed aloud. "I took the boat as payment of my fee; it was all legal and aboveboard. Why should I give it to you?"

"Because I'll kill you if you don't," Manning said

"You're not going to kill anybody, Manning." Stone stood up, drew back his hand, and brought the back of it across Manning's face, spilling him out of the lawn chair. "That's for Allison, you miserable son of a bitch. You cooked up the scam, and she went all the way with you, then you let her hang." Stone looked up and saw a car stop in his driveway. Dino Bacchetti got out. "Hi, Dino," he said.

"Stone, how you doing?"

"Just great. I want you to meet the late Paul Manning."

"How you doing, Paul?" Dino said, grinning broadly.

"Just great," Manning said, wiping away some blood from the side of his mouth.

"Dino and I used to be partners," Stone said. "He's still a cop; he runs the detective squad at the Nineteenth Precinct."

"What is this?" Manning said, alarmed.

"Dino's going to put you in jail," Stone said.

"I haven't committed any crime in the United States," Manning said.

"It's like this, Paul," Dino said. "I'm arresting you for the homicide of your wife, your ex-wife, the pilot, and the other passenger on that airplane you sabotaged."

"I didn't murder my wife or anybody else," Manning said, "and nobody can prove that I did. Anyway, I don't believe she's dead."

"Well, there are a lot of fine legal points in this case," Dino said. "I mean, in addition to the four homicides, there's the insurance fraud. It all gets very complicated, doesn't it?"

Manning smiled, showing blood on his teeth. "Yes, it does. In fact, I expect to be a free man again before the day is over. I've already retained a lawyer, and you'll never be able to hold me."

"I know this is going to come as a big disappointment, Paul," Dino said, "especially since you worked so hard to figure it all out, but I've got some really bad news for you."

"What do you mean?" Manning asked.

Dino pulled a document from his pocket. "This is for you," he said. "Consider yourself served."

"What is it?"

"It's an extradition warrant. You're going back to St. Marks for trial."

"You can't do that!" Manning said, trying to read the warrant.

"Sure I can. Of course, you'll fight extradition, but eventually you'll go back. And then you can prove to them that your wife is still alive."

Manning's jaw dropped. "How can I prove she's still alive?"

"I doubt if you can," Stone said, "but there's more bad news."

"What?"

"The St.Marks police went out to the airport after Chester crashed, and they dusted everything, and I mean everything, for fingerprints, and you know what? They found some prints on the tool cabinet in the hangar that don't match anybody else's at the airport. I had a phone conversation with Sir Winston Sutherland, and he told me all about it. Of course, they never thought to check the fingerprints of the New Yorker writer, Jim Forrester. So when Dino gets you back to the precinct, he's going to fingerprint you, and then he's going to fax your fingerprints to Sir Winston, in St.Marks, and if they match the prints on the tool cabinet-and you and I both know they will then Sir Winston is going to have a real good case against you for those three homicides. And even if they don't match, there's Allison."

"She isn't dead, is she?" Manning asked. "Come on, Stone, you know she isn't."

"I don't think Sir Winston will adopt that view, Manning. After all, he convicted her and had her hanged himself."

Manning looked as if he wanted to run, but now there were two more detectives standing in the driveway.

Stone continued. "You saw how they tried Allison, how they convicted her with hardly any evidence at all. My prediction, Manning, is that before the year is out, you're going to have your neck stretched in St.Marks."

Dino motioned the two detectives forward, and they handcuffed Paul Manning. He stared at Stone, apparently speechless.

"Good-bye, Manning," Stone said. "I'll be a witness at your trial; I'll tell the court how you admitted your identity to me and that you told me how you faked your death. Funny thing is, without our conversation today, they might not have been able to prove who you really were. So I'll see you in St.Marks." He smiled broadly. "And there won't be any attorney-client confidentiality."

The cops put Manning into their car.

"How about some dinner tonight?" Dino asked.

"Absolutely; we'll celebrate."

"Elaine's at eight-thirty?"

"That will be great," Stone replied.

Alma appeared in the garage. "Is everything all right?"

"Everything is all right," Stone said.

Late that night, Stone and Dino sat over the remains of their dinner at Elaine's.

"All in all," Stone said, "it's been a very satisfying day."

"Glad I could help," Dino said. "That guy from Boston, the insurance dick, was in my office this afternoon. He's a very happy man."

"Why?"

"Because he's going to get at least some of his money back from Allison Manning's estate." "He'd better not count on it."

"Why not?"

"Because, unless I miss my guess, that money has disappeared into the worldwide banking system and will never be seen again. Allison moved it the day before her trial."

Dino looked at Stone sharply. "What was that stuff said about his wife not being dead?"

"I think Manning is still in denial."

"Is she dead?"

Stone was still trying to figure out how to answer Dino's question when Elaine came over to the table.

"Phone call for you, Stone," she said, pointing at of the two pay phones on the wall nearby. "Excuse me, Dino," Stone said. He got up and went the phone. "Hello?" he said, sticking a finger in the other ear to blot out some of the noise.

"Stone?"

"Yeah? Who's this?"

"Stone, this is Vance Calder."

That stopped Stone in his tracks for a minute. "Hello Vance," he was finally able to say. "How'd you find me here?"

"There was no answer at your house, and I remembered that Arrington said you were at Elaine's a lot. I took a chance."

"How is Arrington, Vance?"

"That's what I'm calling about, Stone. Arrington has disappeared."

"What do you mean, disappeared?"

"Just that; she's vanished."

"When?"

"The day before yesterday."

"Have you been to the police?"

"I can't do that; the tabloids would be all over me. I need your help, Stone."

"Vance, you'd really be a lot better off going to the police; there's nothing I can do about this."

"You can find, her, Stone; if anybody can, you can. I want you to come out here."

"Vance, really…"

"The Centurion Studios jet is at Atlantic Aviation at Teterboro Airport right now, waiting for you. You can be here by morning."

"Vance, I appreciate your confidence in me, but…"

"Stone, Arrington is pregnant."

Stone felt as if he'd been struck hard in the chest. He could count.

"Stone? Are you still there?"

"I'll be at Teterboro in an hour, Vance."

"You'll be met at the Santa Monica airport."

"Write down everything you can think of, Vance; we'll have a lot to talk about."

"I will. And thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," Stone said, then hung up. He returned to the table. "You're buying dinner, Dino," he said. "I'm off to La-La Land."

"About what?" Dino asked.

"I'll call you," Stone said.

"You didn't answer my question about Allison Manning."

"That will have to wait, I'm afraid." He kissed Elaine on the cheek, then walked out of the restaurant and started looking for a cab.

Key West February 10, 1997